Cornelia... Doesnt Hate Monsters. She Knows To Give Them A Wide Berth And Plenty Of Respect, But Unlike

Cornelia... doesn’t hate monsters. She knows to give them a wide berth and plenty of respect, but unlike some youths or... adults, that were one day wronged by those animals, may it be by almost being eaten, or seeing their property and family slain by one, she does not hate them. She admits they’re a constant of nature, they simply exist, with all their instincts and inner lack of predictability, necessary to the world’s survival. To live without coming to blows is impossible, for every living thing must fight to stay on top in that world. To assert their place in the balance that is life and death, and one should work to carve out the best place they can, in that mosh pit that is life. To each their place, to each their fights and struggles.

Even great beasts that threaten to turn the world upside down, she feels, are undeserving of any amount of rage and spite. They can be fought, they can be beaten, but wether they should be slain is a question that one should ponder. They belong there, as much as humans do.

But everything outside of that circle... Everything that should not be there, that hinges on malice, on petty emotions, on desires beyond one’s survival, and that threatens the world... She loathes entirely. Cruelty and outsiders have no place in the circle of life. Cornelia may be small, and not much of a fighter yet, but she strongly feels that what does not belong should be removed.

Continued from [X]

@monsters-of-the-new-world​

“...Mh!”

Cornelia looked very much proud of herself for a moment. Pulling out of her back pocket a small, messy leather notebook, she snagged the attached pencil and started to... write her discovery down, still crouched at an arm’s lenght from the large, sluggish wyvern.

Well, twas now duly noted, the rock number is inconscequential compared to the POSITION of said rocks. What purpose THAT would ever serve to anyone reading her “research” journal, quotation marks very pronounced there... she had no idea. It had been pretty funny, at the very least.

Finally done with noting down her observations, Cornelia looked up from her notebook and, well, took notice she was still standing right next to an awake Dodogama. She wasn’t exactly worried she’d end up as a quick post-nap luncheable, considering their usual diet. But, she did did have a small stack of rocks right next to her that she hadn’t placed onto his nose. The very much “edible” type that a Dodogama would like. As edible as a rock could get, anyways.

Cornelia promptly scooted further away, gesturing to them in the old “knock yourself out, mate” universal manner to the fanged wyvern. They’d been a pain in the butt to find - she wasn’t going to give a monster just any dumb rock. So, he might as well have the rest.

fifthfleetproven‌:

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The brief period of confusion that took hold of Cornelia’s expression worried him. Thoughts flashed immediately through his head, wondering if he had come off in some unintended way. For now, he was unable to secure a moment to explain himself before lowering his head to peer into her name tag. Again, a smile traced his lips, followed by a nod. By now, he was certain that she couldn’t speak, or wouldn’t. There weren’t enough clues in hand to know exactly what her story was. One day.

Watching her hurry for the canteen, he turned and began to follow, struggling to squeeze through the same pathways. She eventually lost him in the sea of people but in the end, their destinations were one in the same. Upon arriving at the canteen, stepping off the chain escalator, he laid eyes on her again and made his way, lifting his hand to greet. Seasoned meat cooked and when platters were revealed, the appetizing scents emanated towards them in waves. Even Novus felt a growing hunger.

After taking a seat, he turned his attention to the young one and held one hand out to stop her from using her voucher. How would it have looked if he partook freely from the meal he had given to her as compensation for the lost pear? Reaching into a pouch, he procured another and handed it over before ordering. She was free to follow suit, a vault of dishes awaiting her favor.

For him, it was all meats. Different dishes of aptonoth and apceros. A plate of steak still sizzling in a bed of vegetable sauce greeted him surrounded with red and yellow peppers and touched lightly with ground kut-ku beans for a bit of spiciness. A bowl of cheesy apceros casserole sat in gooey anticipation and a basket filled with ground beef and cudgel onion braided in a crispy golden layer of bread followed close behind. Today, he was in no rush to head out on an expedition or hunt so when his hands extended, it was calmly.

Spending another moment glancing into Cornelia’s face at a angle as she ate, again reminded of his friend, he spoke, “I wanted to apologize if I came off the wrong way earlier about my advice. I didn’t mean to say you haven’t earned your gear. I meant after you’ve completed your first hunt.”

When the thought that it might not be her way to think as he did crossed his mind, only peace seized his features, rather than displeasure.

“But truthfully, every hunter may make their own way. I certainly didn’t take all the advice I was given. Perhaps your way would reject mine and that is something admirable as well. To forge your own code. I do believe, however, that pride tempers anything we choose to spend our lives endeavoring upon.”

Having a... thing or two to take care of, anyways, Cornelia didn’t mind much that she promptly lost the hunter in the crowd, which most rudely spat her out at the bottom of the large, winding stairway that lead to the upper levels of Astera. The outpost wasn’t big, and unless you went out of your way to visit the facilities that weren’t settled for hunters, your chances of getting lost were slim. So, she figured, she’d find him again eventually.

Plus, t’wasn’t like they weren’t headed for the same destination. The young apprentice practically shot up the stairs, bounding happily along the way before coming to a stop at the canteen. The signal that the message regarding the provisions had been sent was quickly conveyed by a wave of the hand towards one of the felyne cooks, who waved back promptly. Novus was, expectedly, not too long after found stepping off the faster elevator.

Cornelia waved right back, somewhat unphased by the delicious smells wafting about, much unlike Novus. Blame running errands for the kitchen, eventually, your nose was bound to grow accustomed to the smell of cooking food. But, there was a bit of a grumble as she remembered her half-eaten snack. The sugar buzz from the fruit hadn’t really done much to give her energy reserves any replenishing. Cornelia perched herself on a seat at one of the tables surrounding the canteen, bringing a knee to her chest, not seemingly caring much this could have been interpreted as poor table manners.

She let him order first, fishing out of her pocket the ticket that she promptly handed to the felyne taking their orders, rocking slightly on her seat as she tried to think of something to eat, and how to pantomine it properly. Admittedly, her imitation of a fish was probably rather funny to look at, though it did get a few raised eyebrows from the felyne that was jutting their orders down.

There honestly wasn’t as much flourish in her plate as in Novus’, but the grilled sushifish she had managed to order, with steamed veggies to the side, was plenty to her liking. Blame hanging out with felynes too much, their tastes were rubbing off of her. She might not have been that hungry, but she scarfed down the fish with much less peace and calm than her interlocutor, eating fast and only leaving sparce crumbs of meat hanging off the otherwise well cleaned fish bones. Not really out of hunger, more out of a sense of... urgency of sorts, pausing in her wolfing down to nod quietly every few words she found truthful.

She might not have been able to respond to his words, but listen she did. Until the shrill voice of one of the kitchen’s furry cooks reached her ears, causing her to grumble. “Young missy, did you deliver the message, or did you just sit down to have a snack?”

Cornelia raised empty hands, pouting a little at the nagging of the Felyne cook, only to sink a little onto her seat as the apron-wearing, bandana-bearing lynian came trotting over to eye her plate with a disapproving look. “Did you just wolf that down?” The young girl tried to shake her head no, but...

Hiccup!

severingblade‌:

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Cornelia’s silent answer is enough. Novus turns and heads for the main gates of Astera. On his way along, hand reaches for a switch axe that has been sitting lonely against the bulletin board for quite some time. Its frame is crafted of bone and it bears several different monster materials, the most prominent being that of a brachydios. A blue handkerchief hangs from the grip, emblazoned with the logo of his squad. Grip effortlessly places it upon his back.

With another flourish, he whistles loudly and fires his slinger rope heavenward. A wingdrake with green and blue scales blurring together gradually across its slender features sweeps by at just the right moment. With a soft leap, he allows himself to be drawn into the sky. That he is headed towards the Wildspire Waste is quite immediately clear. The arid environment awaits in the far distance.

It is likely that Cornelia follows beside him on a wingdrake of her own. Never mind the message she is to deliver for the canteen יִיִ

They arrive at central camp just after noon. Sun rests near its highest point of the day and showers those below with blazing rays of light. The air above the sand glimmers. Pilot hares seek the shade and apceros roam in tranquility, burning as little energy as possible in these harsh conditions. Novus pulls a beige cloak over himself, pulling a hood over head to protect him from the sun’s direct gaze. Loading a dung pod into slinger, he finally begins to head out, studying Cornelia’s own preparations as he does.

Their destination is not far from here. On their way, they pass through a cavernous system often inhabited by rathian. As Novus sniffs, he is pleased to discover that the most noticeable scent is that of water pathways and not freshly lain eggs. The former is more pleasant.

As they exit the breadth of the caverns, the light of the sun shines upon them fully. Their feet sink into the sand as they walk and threatens to slip from under them. It is not an unfamiliar feeling. Novus leans to correct and traverses the hilly area with sufficient ease.

A large part of him believes his project has not come into fruition. Four storms have passed through the region since it began and none have yielded the desired results. So as he approaches, he is calm. The enthusiasm with which he devoured his meal and shot out of his seat becomes admittedly subdued.

But then he sees something יִיִ It causes tension across his whole body and an expression of disbelief. Then he shoots into a sprint, sand wildly displaced in his wake. As he arrives, he drops on two knees before a strange metal construct in some remote section of the Wildspire, where the minerals in the sand are exceedingly יִיִ special יִיִ A metallic rod reaches for the clouds at its center.

A sandstorm would have done nothing for him, although even those have peculiar consequences on the landscape that can be quite captivating. A dry thunderstorm, however, can give birth to a rather strangely shaped mineral.

﮴ It has happened יִיִ When lightning strikes sand it is melted and stretched into what resembles lightning in the sky. At present it is covered in sand carried by the wind but with careful brushing, its true beauty can be uncovered.  ﮴

Metal rods arranged upon one another and covered in sand have succeeded in creating a vivid crystalline structure. 

﮴ The metal structure within is segmented and can be taken apart with the crystal still attached. I intend to craft something decorative from it. Would you like some? ﮴

Following calmly in the footsteps of the hunter, Cornelia watches as he gathers what she assumes is his weapon from against the bulletin board, slinging the customized bone switch axe onto his back. That one would leave their weapon unattended like this does spark a bit of a raised eyebrow for the young one, but she quickly ignores it. She doubted that there was much thievery going on in Astera, anyways - mostly for having been the sole perpetrator of clumsy snagging of shiny items, some time ago when she hadn’t quite registered what “mineral samples” were supposed to be.

The wingdrake that takes her along isn’t called with the traditionnal, sharp whistle of hunters, Cornelia instead choosing a more... personnal method of calling them to attention. One she doubts the hunter will question, anyways - when you can’t whistle quite well, you take the alternative you can. Hers just so happened to rest upon very flexible vocal chords.

“KRAAAAAAAARK!” The raspy call is almost uncannily similar to the proximity calls of Mernos flocking in groups, and quickly gets one’s attention, causing the wingdrake to dive for her, coming back up to the skies with one rather light cargo swinging in the wind at the end of a rope. She doesn’t need to tell it anything, it already knows to follow Novus, used to flocking to nearby hunters, assuming they were part of a group.

The trip is long, uncomfortable, but has the redeeming quality of offering quite the pleasant view of the world. Cornelia busied herself with the sight of the world slowly passing below, of the verdant forest growing dryer and dryer, dotted with ochre boulders and crags, orange sand and even humid, grey mud lakes. She felt the cool air from the vegetation grow rarer and rarer, the air drying and warming as they went.

At that moment, more than ever, Cornelia cursed her pale, freckle-bound complexion, grimacing somewhat at the thought of the heat that would soon come crashing down on her like a vest made out of lead. Upon landing and the mercifully shaded camp, she quickly started taking necessary items out of her utility belt, notably a light bandanna made out of light cloth that she quickly tied over her head to offer some protection from the sun’s glare. She loaded into her makeshift slinger not dung, but flash pods - still keeping a few of the... distasteful little flinging items in her back pocket. To her honest opinion, they usually worked a bit more immediately.

The trip was silent, though Cornelia didn’t have any illusions that Novus expected her to make for conversation along the way. She simply hopped along at a good pace, skipping through the cavernous network that they took to arrive where they wanted, enjoying the cool, humid air that came with the small rivulets that ran through the lower levels. The return to the sun was not punctuated by much noise, either, but she did innerly sigh as they found themselves in a dune-heavy area, finding herself digging her feet into the sand, pushing against the unsteady footing.

The wildspires would be nice, if it weren’t for all the sand. She kept trekking along, startled briefly as Novus rushed onwards into stillness, before she followed suit, dashing towards the large... metallic rod. It didn’t take long for her to add the elements together, eyes bugging out as she caught on to what he’d been working to make. She scurried close, watching him retract his apparatus and unearth his little “creation” with a curious smile, that only grew gleeful when he proposed a piece to her.

“Gheeeeheeee!” The sound was a strange cross between an acquiesment and a giggle, nodding happily as she observed the delicate, coral-like sand crystal. The grains still whole stuck to its surface made it look like it was but a particularly delicate sand castle, likely to fall apart at a moment’s notice. Fulgurites could be found normally after storms, though not easily given their rarity. Short seconds later, Novus found himself face to face with Cornelia’s new clipboard.

I was not expecting that. I am not complaining, though. It’s lucky it wasn’t knocked down by a passing monster.

fifthfleetproven‌:

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It was about then that he began to wonder if Cornelia lacked the ability to speak. At the very least, the youth could listen. As she began her attempt to gesticulate a concept to him, Novus angled his head attentively. His eyes moved from article to article, from grimace to finger on chin. Then to finger on armor, which eventually led him to expand his attention out to the rest of her outfit. Didn’t take him long to note the simplicity of it and the settling of his expression indicated that he might have reached an understanding.

An approving smile tugged at the right corner of his lip. A soft nod followed and he could be seen preparing to speak. The words, however, only welled up in his chest before being restrained. Next, he took a breath and shifted his weight onto his other foot, peering into her youthful expression. He had chased after countless mysteries as a hunter. Discovered truths that belonged in fables, yet the potential that comes with blooming youth still filled him with anticipation. What might she discover after his own time has passed?

“You are to be a hunter. Then if you will grant me the audience, I have a concept that may consume you in hours of introspection. You may have already discovered it but I wish to tell you for certain.” Because you remind me of family. “If you would listen.”  

As in all professions, there were those who looked upon the role of hunter as a career and others who looked at it as so much more. Novus was very firmly the latter and there were few like him. Inevitably, she would begin to see it as well. See hunters who lived as hunters and hunters who worked as hunters. One day she would find herself tilting in one direction or the other and then she would start to apply that understanding to her closest friends, identify which was which. It could make her feel alone. It could fill her with arrogance. It could resolve her.

“Never use materials that you haven’t earned. That is a hunter’s pride.”

A hunter should understand what he meant by that, even an apprentice. One day she would slay her first wyvern and earn the right to wield weapons made from its bones, wear armor made from its scales, receive gifts bearing its fangs … but never before the hunt is complete.

For a few moments, he watched her closely, looking to see if whether she had just been told about a philosophy she was born with an understanding of or if she had been given something new to contemplate. Regardless of the outcome, he quickly digressed, hoping not to come off as intrusive on her development as a hunter. Given the history of his squad, many may hope she regards him as transient wind. 

“Oh,” he remembered, “My name is Novus.” Turning his gaze skyward and to his left, he continued, “The fresher ingredients will not last long at the canteen. Shall we?” 

The young one smiled in return as the other considered her apprenticeship, and gave it his quiet sceal of approval. It probably was funny to see a young one taking the same path as him. He caught himself before he could comment on it, and Cornelia felt herself press her lips together. She wished she could squeeze out a question on what in the world was swimming in the hunter’s mind, but... well, the fault wasn’t exactly on her not trying to. The young apprentice had never quite figured out how to get her tongue and jaw to cooperate with her wishes at all times.

It wasn’t that she was incapable of speech, far from it. But... time and time again, amongst strangers, words found themselves trapped in her chest, squirming like snakes in a basket, unable to fly free. The best she could summon were grunts, whistles, whines and every sort of inarticulate wail that could be produced by a human voice. And then some. It was... frustrating.

Especially when her interlocutor would weave a rather flowery verbal tapestry. That much flourish in a hunter’s vocabulary was... okay, not THAT uncommon. Cornelia had heard fleeting tales of hunters amassing such fortunes that families dealing with the craft for several generations would gain some... aristocratic qualities, to say the least. A lot of useless fluff, if Cornelia was to be honest. She shot the stranger an odd look, as if questionning the delivery of his nugget of wisdom, before letting her traits relax, as she nodded.

The delivery was perhaps odd, but the content was worth minding. She shot a small look at herself, at the hunting knife strapped to her back, before returning her attention to the stranger, giving a quiet hum of understanding and an appreciative smile. To earn your place in the world, to struggle, to call things your own from sheer effort... Every creature, from the high and mighty wyverns that flew the skies, to the bugs crawling in the soil, had to go through that struggle. It was just how things were. A good piece of advice, really.

The greeting was met with the small apprentice fishing into her collar, pulling out a small iron tag, onto which was engraved her name, holding it up so Novus could read it properly... until he made the comment that fresh food wouldn’t wait forever. That much decided her quickly to nod, grin, and shuffle ahead, knowing the way to the canteen... but, finding herself squirming a little as she had to navigate the crowd to get there.

Testing

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Is this thing on?